


Fault Lines

by Berrytron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Post-DC, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berrytron/pseuds/Berrytron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl and Arcee share an afternoon together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fault Lines

“Get up.” The back of a fist came down hard on the plating of Arcee’s tempered thigh. Her only response was a muffled groan of protest. Prowl checked his chronometer. It was half past mid-day; He’d wasted more than half a day already, as had his sleepy companion. “Arcee, now. I need you awake.” She scarcely twitched.

He’d never admit it, but he couldn’t blame her. He had, after all, asked her to stay out most of the night, keeping an eye on a certain someone. He could, however, openly accuse her of disturbing his rest cycle, but it wasn’t often she paid him a personal visit. Her body had been hot from running; her vents still cycling a humid heat as she slipped silently into his berth and wrapped her powerful legs around his mid-section, grinding him into a waking state.  
“Arcee!” He gave her a rough shove, tearing the berth covers from her huddled, nesting frame. She was not pleased.

“Frag off.” She grumbled, giving him a hard kick in the leg. Prowl winced. Those legs could probably kill him if he didn’t keep his distance. Ironically, he’d found himself willfully gripped between them more often than not. Silently cursing her stubbornness, he rolled from his shared berth and left its sole occupant to her wasteful slumber.

The blinding afternoon sun leaked through a gap in the blackout curtains Prowl had hastily installed shortly after his relocation to a small office in one of Metroplex’s towers. Squinting, he set about preparing himself a large serving of enriched energon to get his mind into gear. At the first drip, a soft rustling sounded from the other room. Prowl smirked. Fuel was one of the few things that could coax Arcee into action. By the time she rose, he’d seated himself at his desk, drink in hand and set about compiling a spreadsheet for his upcoming dispatch to Earth.

“Where’s mine?” Arcee quipped, draping herself loosely over Prowl’s desk, reaching hungrily toward his canister.

“Get your own.” He countered, nudging her frame from where it blocked the view of his project. Less than a few days remained before their departure. Arcee choosing to accompany him on this expedition added a whole new level to his plan. Not all of it was good, particularly her newfound infatuation with the “Autobot cause”. Albeit relatively harmless, it still threw a wrench into his underlying strategy, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t work around. She clawed again for his drink.

“Stop!” He finally protested, giving her a frenzied shove, but her footing held tight.

“You’re in a foul mood this morning.” She snickered, hopping up to seat herself casually on his desk, half-blocking the view of his monitor.

“Afternoon.” He corrected. Prowl sighed, giving up the fight as she wrestled the energon canister from his grip. “I’m tired.” He whined, rubbing his optics. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wake me up in the middle of my recharge cycle.” He watched her down a quarter of his daily ration in a single gulp. “Could you not?”

“Please, you get twice as much as I do and I do twice the work.” She smirked. She didn’t use to be so arrogant. “Besides,” She continued, sliding her position across the desk until she sat crotch-to-face with her partner, “You like it when I take control.” She winked.

Prowl felt a heat of embarrassment rise from his empty tank. “I do not like it when you help yourself to my-“ She stifled his protests with an abrupt, fervent kiss. Her mouth tasted sweet, much like the enriched energon he hadn’t had the luxury of consuming just yet. “That taste good?” She whispered, nipping lightly at his dry lips. He scowled. “What about this?” Gripping his crest, she smashed his face into her panel. Prowl winced at the sudden, somewhat painful impact. “Better or worse than my valve?” She teased. Prowl struggled away, but Arcee held tight, following him in for another kiss.

“I don’t have time for this.” He murmured. He turned away in protest, but it only allowed Arcee to work her hot mouth over his exposed neck cables.

Her rough, suckling kisses were torture. He vented heavily, trying not to make a repeat of last night’s encounter. He needed to work, but she had a way of turning any situation needlessly sexual. “Not…now…please.” He argued as she squirmed onto his lap, curling her knees around his arching hips. The chair squeaked under their combined weight.

“Pllleeaasee…” His murmured moans of objection turned into whimpers when the heat of her panel met the sensitive plating of his lower torso. What were futile shoves became frantic tugs as he grasped for leverage in the creases of her tilted hips.

“You’re always more eager than you let on, Prowl.” She bit, sending a jolt of pleasure from cable to cord. There was truth in her statement; his body often had a way of betraying his mind. He could feel her fluids leaking from her exposed port onto his twitching thighs. He fought hungrily for control, but reluctantly submitted by opening his panel, allowing his spike to fully pressurize.

Arcee wasted no time lowering herself onto the exposed cord, vocalizing only a feeble squeak as she took the length in full. Prowl, on the contrary, melted into a fit of salacious moans. His hips lurched desperately, but Arcee worked him into her smoothly, only giving him the pleasure of her tightness, but not the consistent, sliding grip he was aching for.

“What was that you were saying about being tired?” She mocked, her hands securing a firm clasp over his chest-mounted bars. She lowered her feet to the floor, allowing her full weight to secure him to the chair.

“Just…frag me already.” Prowl groaned, pulling her body closer. His core twitched in anticipation. Arcee glared patiently, her eyes asking the silent question. “Please!” He moaned, squirming, but she held him tight.

“That’s more like it.” She grinned, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. “I like it when you beg.” Arcee rose effortlessly from hilt to tip, the strength of her legs controlling her force and angle with acute precision, but Prowl knew she hardly considered this to be a workout. In a single, sharp flick of her hips, she thrust him back inside her until tip met ceiling node, earning a much-needed burst of pleasure between the two of them. Again, she withdrew and impaled until each flare was indistinguishable from the last. Prowl could scarcely remain upright as the first waves of overload trembled through his core.

“Ah, ‘Cee…yes, frag me hard!” He writhed. Arcee lavished in his praise and generously gave him what they both desperately needed.

“You feel how tight that is, Prowl?” Arcee panted, quickening her pace even further, desperately pursuing her climax with an intense ferocity. Her optics were excessively bright. Prowl could sense the overload collecting within her quivering calipers. “That’s what you do to me. That’s how you make me feel.” Her honest sighs invoked a sense of zealotry. She tugged roughly on his chest, as if she was trying to pull his whole body inside her.

Prowl cursed and hastily pulled her into a messy kiss. His hands worked their way over her angular body, scratching and kneading every joint and crease he could get his fingers into. Their aggressive kiss did little to stifle the noise between them and the mostly empty office did nothing to conceal their vocal fervor.

Arcee was, unsurprisingly, the first to overload. She slammed her body against him hard, her port gripping so tightly it was almost painful for both of them. “Yes, yes, yes!” She cried out relentlessly, back arching, her port climaxing violently. The intensity and passion at which she expressed her overload was enough to send Prowl spiraling over the edge, releasing his own arousal deep within her clinging valve. He was so lost in her, he wasn’t sure if he’d screamed her name and if so, how loud it resonated. The thought of someone listening in on their intimacy was unsettling.

They sat like that for a full minute, filling their intakes with cool air, listening to each other’s sparks wind down. “Ah yeah, that was nice.” Arcee sighed, abruptly leaping off Prowl’s softening spike in a single fluid motion. Prowl glared at the puddle of transfluid she’d left in his lap. He wondered how much of it was his.

“Do you always have to be so rough?” He asked, grimacing as he smeared lubricant from his fingertips on his outer thigh.  
Rummaging through a cabinet, Arcee selected a polishing cloth and proceeded to scrub herself clean. Prowl fought the urge to scold her for using the wrong type of towel. “It’s your fault for leaving me hanging last night. I don’t think I’ve ever had a partner who fell asleep mid-thrust.” She chided, tossing the cloth directly at his face. It caught on the tip of his crest. It was already damp. Ridiculous.

“Look, I appreciate the affection, Arcee, but there’s a time and place for everything.” The towel was doing nothing but smearing the lubricant around. He’d need a proper bath if he ever hoped to wrest the sticky mess collected in his joints. “You should learn some constraint. We won’t be able to behave like this when we’re on Earth.”

“Oh right,” Arcee snickered, folding her arms. “I’m your dirty little secret.” He disliked her mocking tone. Why couldn’t she be content with what they had?

“It’s essential we keep an air of detachment between us lest-“

“Lest the others discover you have a sex-drive. Save it, Prowl, I’ve heard it a dozen times. You’re ashamed of me.”

Prowl felt the familiar anxious churn of his spark; the first sign of burgeoning aggression. “I’m not ashamed of you.” He countered, but he couldn’t find the words of evidence to back it up. He wasn’t ashamed. It was necessary they keep their distance for now. Just for now.

“We can’t, you know, find someplace private to frag? Earth is a big place.” Arcee meandered, sensing his discomfort.

“Not quite. Earth has several billion semi-intelligent inhabitants with acute senses, as well as mechanical surveillance. Two giant, what they call, “robots”, excuse the slur, clanging together violently is not something their planet needs to know about.”

“Clanging together violently.” She repeated curiously. “You have a unique way of observing things, Prowl.”

“Just the facts.” He murmured. “Anyway,” He changed the subject quickly, not wishing to dredge up the fault lines between them, “I’ve got a suspicion that Ra-“

“Actually, I was going to listen to Optimus give a lecture on Autobot morals today.” She quipped. Prowl was surprised he wasn’t more disappointed.

“Really.” His response was more of a statement than a question and her stern expression was a clear enough answer. He glowered. “Pfft, fine. Get it over with. You’ll get your fill of his idealism soon enough.” It was difficult to conceal the bitterness in his remark. He returned willfully to his spreadsheet and ignored her as she exited without the courtesy of announcing her departure.

Prowl folded his hands together and ran a couple dozen mental simulations. It occurred to him then that there were a few flaws in his plan he needed to reconsider: a few concerning Arcee and a few concerning himself.

**Author's Note:**

> ***Author's Note: Originally intended as PWP, I decided to explore their relationship a little deeper. Whether or not I succeeded will be decided by comments or kudos ;) Constructive criticism welcome!


End file.
